


arch-nemeses

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: lucky you’re the one i love [13]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Gen, and a hint of ripper/spike, but nothing that merits an actual relationship tag, established ripper/jenny, implied past ripper/ethan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 04:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17573807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: “Oi, wanker,” Ripper was shouting after him, “your band can’t play for shit, you know that?”Spike turned, long coat whirling out in a way that combined grace and manliness, and shot back, “My band plays a damn sight better than your band. What do they call you? Wretched? Sounds about right, doesn’t it?”





	arch-nemeses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JackalopingIntoTheVoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackalopingIntoTheVoid/gifts).



> for jack! who has been the source of many wonderful & illuminating conversations, both fandom and not, over the last.....god, it's been nearly a year since you showed up in my inbox???? wild???? i am so glad you did, i love you so very much, and i feel so lucky to have collaborated w/u on so much of this au.

Ethan wasn’t threatened by Ripper’s girl. He’d met her a handful of times, showing up to cause a bit of havoc just because he felt like it, and she’d always struck him as a girl with an uninterestingly kind heart, which didn’t really threaten him. He wasn’t bothered by Ripper having some annoyingly pretty little angel of a girlfriend, largely because he knew that _he_ was still Ripper’s unbelievably sexy arch-nemesis, and really, that worked better for him. All the delicious sexual tension, the lingering animosity…it suited him _much_ better than the nauseating domesticity that was Ripper and his girl.

And then came Spike.

* * *

 

“You  _fucking ponce,_ ” Ripper was shouting as Ethan entered the Bronze, held back by his Slayer, his girl, and that annoying boy who was always wearing heelys. “You _dye your hair,_ you piece of shit, c’mere and tell me to my _face_ that I’m a poser!”

“Seriously?” said Ripper’s girl, who appeared to be trying to hold Ripper back and check her Snapchat at the same time.

Ethan, of course, operated under the reasonable assumption that these threats were directed at him. After all, who else would Ripper be threatening? No one else inspired that level of anger, or that delightfully sexy look of bone-crushing fury in Ripper’s eyes—

“You’re. A. Poser.” A British bloke with bleached hair, unbelievable cheekbones, and a clearly-vintage leather jacket stalked over to Ripper, all but growling. “And don’t get all up in my face with me, Watcher-boy, I could snap you like a twig!”

“You’re not _half_ as able to snap me as you think you are,” Ripper shot back.

“You sure you don’t wanna just compare dicks and be done with it?” snarked Ripper’s girl, adding a determined tug to Ripper’s arm for emphasis. “Rupert, seriously, this is _such_ a waste of time—”

“Fuck off, Janna,” said Ripper.

“What was that?” said Ripper’s girl, raising an eyebrow.

To Ethan’s amusement, Ripper winced, reconsidered, and said solemnly, “I love you, Janna.”

“That’s better,” said Ripper’s girl. “Spike, do you really have to start this bullshit after he’s had a few beers? He always starts getting punchy when he drinks—”

“I have had _more_ than a few beers,” Spike announced, “and I should like to _punch_ something. And I think it should like to be your boy toy’s face.”

“I’m not her _boy toy,_ ” Ripper objected. Behind him, the Slayer and the heely-boy exchanged doubtful looks. “And I’m gonna punch your face _first._ With _my face._ ”

“Does that mean they’re gonna make out?” the Slayer asked Ripper’s girl.

In response, Ripper’s girl smirked, sort of shrugged, and went back to her phone, as though this sort of confrontation between Ripper and Spike was par for the course. And that _infuriated_ Ethan, because how _dare_ Ripper have regular confrontations with someone who wasn’t him? He’d barely been out of Sunnydale for two months this go-round, and this time he had something _really_ terrible up his sleeve, and now he was here only to find Ripper ready to fight and/or drunkenly snog someone who _wasn’t him?_

It was time for direct action. Ethan strode up to the group. “Hello, Ripper,” he began, flashing his most winning smile.

Ripper, however, didn’t so much as turn around, because Spike was stalking away in the direction of the stage. “Oi, wanker,” Ripper was shouting after him, “your band can’t play for _shit,_ you know that?”

Spike turned, long coat whirling out in a way that combined grace and manliness, and shot back, “My band plays a damn sight better than _your_ band. What do they call you? Wretched? Sounds about right, doesn’t it?”

“IT’S A FUCKING STATEMENT,” shouted Ripper, and took advantage of his friends’ distraction to charge after Spike. Grinning furiously, Spike shoved his way through the crowds, jumping up onto the stage before Ripper could reach him.

“Yeah, I’d give that one up if I were you,” said Ripper’s girl, smirking at him like she knew what he was trying to do.

“Go fuck yourself,” said Ethan.

“Always good to see you, Ethan,” said Ripper’s girl, whose name Ethan was still refusing to remember. “Sucks that Ripper isn’t paying attention to you, huh?”

“He’s not paying attention to _you_ either,” Ethan shot back savagely.

“Of course he isn’t,” said Ripper’s girl, looking at Ethan like he was a complete idiot. “He and Spike have this whole weird _thing._ He and I have a whole not-weird thing. It’s a thing.”

“Yeah, Ethan, get with the times!” piped up heely-boy. Ethan really, really hated heely-boy.

 _“I’m_ his weird _thing,”_ Ethan persisted. “Not this _Spike_ pillock. That accent is rubbish, and that coat is a fake, and, and, _cheekbones,_ ” he finished furiously, glaring at the stage. Spike was playing the drums very badly and pretending to ignore Ripper, who was jumping up and down in the crowd just to repeatedly flip him the bird.

“Aww,” said Ripper’s girl. “Are you jealous?”

“Shut up,” said Ethan.

“You so are!” said Ripper’s girl. She was grinning like Christmas had come early. “You think your position as his idiot arch-nemesis is usurped by a guy who looks way cuter than you!”

The Slayer gagged. “Jenny,” she said, “I have said this before, and I will say it again: you have _terrible_ taste in guys.”

“I’m not saying Spike _is_ cute,” said Ripper’s girl. “I’m saying, objectively, as a guy, he looks incredibly attractive.”

The Slayer considered this, then nodded. “Fair enough,” she said.

“He is _not_ attractive,” said Ethan. “You could cut _glass_ with those cheekbones. He looks emaciated.”

“He’s a vampire,” said heely-boy helpfully. “That kinda adds a good twenty points to the hotness factor.”

“Well—that’s—I could be a vampire!” Ethan sputtered.

“Yeah, but you’d _actually_ look emaciated,” said the Slayer. “Spike was probably _born_ with those cheekbones.”

“You’re just talking him up to make me angry,” said Ethan stubbornly. “He’s _boring._ Anyone can prance about onstage with a guitar—”

“Wait wait wait shut up,” said Ripper’s girl, smacking Ethan’s arm and holding up her phone. Ripper was throwing empty plastic cups at Spike. “I need this on video,” said Ripper’s girl.

Ethan stared, infuriated. “HE’S PROVOKING A VAMPIRE,” he shouted. “AND NONE OF YOU ARE BOTHERED BY IT?”

“Spike and Ripper cut a deal,” said the Slayer. “Kind of. He doesn’t feed on people in the Bronze, and I don’t stake him when he’s onstage playing his loud, annoying band music.”

“Plus he has a pretty serious girlfriend,” added Ripper’s girl. “They’re really cute. You know. For a murdery vampire couple.” She smiled a little. “Dru gave me a dead bird once.”

“I am not threatened,” said Ethan. “I am _not_ threatened by Mr. Cheekbones and his stupid drums.”

“Suuuure,” said Ripper’s girl, drawing the word out into an American drawl and ending it with a lipsticked grin.

* * *

 

Ethan Was Not Threatened By Mr. Cheekbones And His Stupid Drums. Ethan could set a whole _bunch_ of things on fire, more than bloody Spike and his bloody leather jacket and how _dare_ Ripper throw empty plastic cups at Spike? Throwing relatively harmless objects at each other was strictly Ripper-And-Ethan territory, not Ripper-And-Spike territory, and Spike should go step into a well-placed ray of sunlight.

He made himself feel better by turning all the toothbrushes in Sunnydale’s local dollar store into flesh-eating slugs that grew every five minutes.

“Ethan, for the _love of fucking god,”_ said Ripper, rounding the corner with a flesh-eating slug somehow affixed to his jacket, “what is the _point_ of this?”

“Chaos,” said Ethan, tried to whirl in that graceful-yet-manly way Spike had managed, and fell into a lamppost.

“Yeah, I _figured that,_ ” said Ripper, waving his arm to try and shake off the slug. It didn’t seem to be working. “But your plans are usually more—”

“Dramatic?”

“I would’ve gone with _fucking obnoxious,_ but fine.” Ripper waved his arm again. The slug came off and hit a wall, growing by a good five feet in diameter and leaving a small crater in the cement. “Dramatic works just as well, I s’pose. Why the _fuck—_ ”

“It was the first thing I could think of,” said Ethan. “Not exactly up to par, but then you seem to have lowered your standards, haven’t you?”

“Is this another dig at Jenny?” said Ripper sharply, already raising his fists. “Because if it’s another dig at Jenny—”

“I’m not talking about the boring little American,” said Ethan, rolling his eyes. “I’m talking about your new boyfriend Mr. Cheekbones.”

Ripper dropped his fists. He looked genuinely bemused. “What?”

“The vampire?” persisted Ethan. “Poncy boy? Billy Idol knockoff?”

Ripper rolled his eyes. “You’re not serious,” he said. “Spike is a pain in the arse, is all. I’m with Jen and she’s with me and that’s as far as seeing anyone goes—”

“Nauseating,” said Ethan, who had forgotten how annoyingly _much_ Ripper talked about his girl. “And don’t feed me that garbage. All you did last time I was at the Bronze was shout at Cheekbones and tell him how terrible his hair was.”

Ripper stared at him. Slowly, he said, “Ethan, I don’t know if you know this, but telling someone that their hair is terrible doesn’t automatically mean you want to snog them in an alley.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were _aware,_ ” said Ethan, “that you already _have_ an arch-nemesis with intense sexual tension. Do you want to know who it is?”

“No,” said Ripper, and started walking away.

Ethan followed. “It’s me,” he informed him. “Me. I’m your arch-nemesis.”

“It’s not a self-appointed bloody position,” said Ripper. “Stop trying to make yourself my arch-nemesis. It’s annoying.”

“That’s the _point,_ ” said Ethan, and picked up the flesh-eating slug, lobbing it at Ripper’s head before it could start eating him. It latched onto his jacket.

“For  _fuck’s sake,_ ” said Ripper, balled up the jacket, and threw it at Ethan, beginning to walk faster. Ethan dodged the jacket, continuing to follow.

Ripper rounded a corner, then grinned; his girl was straddling a motorbike, giving the both of them an impatient look. “Here’s my ride,” he said. To his girl, he added, “Jenny, you were right. Ethan’s jealous of Spike.”

“I’m right about everything ever,” said Ripper’s girl. “How is this a surprise?” She leaned over, grinning as Ripper kissed her, and moved up on the motorbike so he could get on behind her. “Don’t worry, Ethan,” she said. “We all still think you’re terrible and evil and shit.”

Ethan resented the fact that he liked Ripper’s girl a bit more for saying that, so he just glowered in return. “I could hex your motorbike, you know,” he told her.

“I put wards on it for that exact reason,” said Ripper’s girl, and made a pleased little noise as Ripper wound his arms around her stomach. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” said Ripper. To Ethan, he added, “You are an annoying little shit and you need to get your nose _out_ of my business,” and then buried his face in his girl’s shoulder as the motorbike set off.

“You’re not wearing a _helmet,_ ” Ethan shouted after him, which wasn’t particularly witty, but Spike had thrown him off his game a bit.

* * *

 

The next time Ethan showed up at the Bronze, Ripper and Spike were sloppily making out in one of the secluded couches. Delighted at the potential to sow seeds of chaos, he immediately started looking around to see if Ripper’s girl was anywhere near the scene.

She was. She had her phone out and was snapping a picture of them.

“For  _fuck’s sake,_ Calendar,” said Ethan, too infuriated to remember that he had been determined not to use Ripper’s girl’s name. “You don’t care that your boy toy’s snogging Billy Idol?”

Pocketing her phone, Calendar gave the pair a fond smile. “They pull this shit all the time when they’re drunk,” she said. “Then they pretend it never happened, so I have to get photo evidence to tease Spike about. If I could, I’d tease Ripper too, but I can’t really tease Ripper about dumb choices he made when he was drunk, ‘cause, uh,” and then she touched her lips and got a strange smile on her face, “I’m definitely a good percentage of those dumb choices. So.”

“Spike is _usurping my position,”_ said Ethan.

Calendar snorted. “Please,” she said. “Spike couldn’t usurp your position if he tried. You’re the actual worst, Ethan, and we all know it, so would it kill you to let Ripper have a generally harmless rivalry that sometimes ends in drunken makeouts?”

Ethan decided to focus on the part of the sentence where Calendar called him the _actual worst._ “You’re all right, Calendar,” he informed her.

“Wow, and your good opinion means _so_ much to me,” said Calendar, who was already heading in the direction of the dance floor.

Ethan watched her go, nodded to himself, and decided he would come back in a month and try to set her hair on fire.


End file.
